These women were never going to forgive me for killing one of them. I knew that, and I wasn’t here to ask them to. It’s not the hand you’re dealt that matters. It’s how you play the cards.

I was here to set the record straight.

Rowena had made a statement this afternoon. By sending her sidhe-seers after me in force, with orders to subdue me and steal my weapon, she’d said: You are not one of us and the only way you can become one of us is complete subjugation to my will. Give me your weapon, obey me in all things, and I’ll consider letting you into the fold.

I was here to make my own statement back: Screw you, old woman. To drive my point home I’d brought as my protector a Fae Prince capable of destroying them all (not that I would ever let him). If she was a wise woman, she wouldn’t mess with me again, and she’d call off her attack dogs. I already had enough people and monsters messing with me.

Darn it all, I’d wanted friends and I’d wanted them among my own kind!

I’d wanted girls like Dani, only older, to confide in, to talk to, to share secrets of our heritage with. I’d wanted to belong here. I’d wanted to learn about the O’Connors, the bloodline I was supposedly descended from, and the last living member of.

“Take me in,” I told V’lane, bracing myself to be “sifted.”

I asked V’lane why the Fae call it sifting, and he said it was the only human word that encapsulated the basics of what they do. The Fae sift the limitless dimensions, like grains of sand through their fingers, letting a little spill here, a little spill there, sorting them until they have hold of the ones they want. When they have chosen, things change.

I asked if that meant he chose the “grain” of place where he wanted to be, and moved there by the power of thought. He didn’t get the idea of moving there. According to him, neither we, nor the dimensions moved. We simply. changed. And there it was again, the two prevalent Fae concepts: stasis or change.

Sifting felt like dying. I simply stopped existing completely, then was there again. It was painless, but deeply disturbing. One moment I was outside, standing next to the Viper, in near darkness; the next, my night-enlarged pupils gorged on a blaze of lights, momentarily blinding me, and when I could see again, I was inside the brilliantly lit walls of Arlington Abbey.

Women were screaming. Many and loudly. It was deafening.

For a moment, I was afraid they were under attack. Then I understood: I was the attack. I was hearing the sound of hundreds of sidhe-seers sensing an immensely powerful Fae inside their warded walls. I’d forgotten about that tiny detail; of course they would sense V’lane, and they’d raise the hue and cry.

“Shall I shut them up?” V’lane said.

“No. Leave them alone. They’ll stop in a minute.” I hoped.

They did.

At my direction, he’d sifted us into the rear of the abbey, where I’d hoped to find the dormitories. My guess, based on the sketches I’d seen online, had been accurate. One by one, doors opened, heads popped out, mouths closed, gaped, and closed again.

A familiar head of curly red hair emerged from a nearby room. “Oh, you are so fecking dead!” Dani exclaimed. “You were in serious trouble before, but now she’s going to kill you.”

“Watch your language, Dani,” chastised the woman who appeared in the doorway behind her.

Dani rolled her eyes.

“I’d like to see her try,” I said.

The outer corners of the gamine redhead’s mouth twitched.

“How dare you come here? How dare you bring that thing in here?” demanded a pajama-clad sidhe-seer, stabbing a finger at V’lane. Another head popped into view behind her, nose heavily bandaged. I knew that woman. My fist had met her face earlier today. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and narrowed on me with hostility.

When he stiffened, I placed a hand on his arm, careful to harbor no Nulling intent, in a show of solidarity I hoped would defuse his aggression.

The corridor was now filled with sidhe-seers in various stages of undress. Not because of V’lane, but because it was after midnight and I’d woken them. Apparently, he was proving true to his word. Not a single sidhe-seer was undressing. I didn’t feel the ghost of a sexual tingle. Nonetheless, they were all staring fixedly at him.

“I didn’t dare come here without Prince V’lane.” The use of his title pleased him; I felt muscle slide smoother beneath his skin. “Rowena sent six of you after me today.”

“I saw the ones that returned,” the pajama-clad woman snapped. She glanced over her shoulder at her bandaged roommate, then back at me, her gaze frigid. “Those that lived were badly beaten. There’s not a scratch on you. Not a single bruise.” She paused, then spat, “Pri-ya.”

“I am not Pri-ya!”

“You travel with a Fae Prince. You touch him freely, of your own accord. What else could you be?”

“Try a sidhe-seer who’s working with a Fae Prince in order to help Queen Aoibheal find the Sinsar Dubh so she can fix the mess we’re all in,” I said coolly. “V’lane approached me on the Seelie queen’s behalf, because I can sense the Book when it’s near. I’ve been—”

She gasped. “You can sense the Sinsar Dubh? Is it near? Have you seen it?”

Sidhe-seers up and down the corridor turned to each other, exclaiming.

“Can’t any of you sense it?” I glanced around. The faces turned toward me reflected astonishment. It mirrored my own. I’d thought surely there would be others like me. One or two, at least.

Dani shook her head. “The ability to sense Fae objects is extremely rare, Mac.”

Her roommate said stiffly, “The last sidhe-seer with that ability died a long time ago. We’ve not been successful at breeding those bloodlines.”

Breeding those bloodlines? The soft Irish lilt didn’t soften the words a bit. They were cold. Made me think of white coats and labs and petri dishes. It was no wonder I was so highly sought after. No wonder Barrons was so determined to keep me alive, and I had a Fae prince playing lapdog, and the Lord Master hadn’t yet launched a full-scale attack against me. They all needed me alive. I was Tigger. I was the only one.

“You killed Moira!” the woman in the door across the hall accused.

V’lane regarded me with acute interest. “You killed one of your own?”

“No, I didn’t kill Moira.” I addressed the sidhe-seers, who were all regarding me with open hostility, with the exception of Dani. “Rowena killed Moira when she sent her after me to beat me up and take my spear.” The woman had a name: Moira. Did she have a sister, too, who was now mourning her like I grieved for Alina? “I’m just as horrified by what happened today as you are.”

“Sure you are,” someone scoffed.

“She doesn’t even say she’s sorry,” another spat. “Just comes in here with her fancy Fae guard and blames our leader. I’m surprised she didn’t bring a Hunter along, too.”

I’d give them an apology if they wanted one. “I’m sorry I unsheathed my spear and was holding it. I’m even sorrier she decided to lunge for me right then. If she hadn’t, she’d be alive.”

“If you hadn’t refused to give us the spear, she would, too,” someone called.

“The spear isn’t yours,” another woman cried. “Why should you have it? There are only two weapons that kill Fae. More than seven hundred of us share the sword. You have the other. Do what’s right. Give it to those who were born and bred to have it!”

Others concurred.

Born and bred, my petunia. As if I were something less! “I’m the only one who can sense the Book, and I have to be out there every night, hunting for it. Do you have any idea what Dublin’s like right now? I wouldn’t survive a night without it. Besides, I’m the one who risked my life to steal it.”